A blog by Bill Hess

Running Dog Publications

P.O. Box 872383 Wasilla, Alaska 99687

 

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Wasilla

Wasilla is the place where I have lived for the past 29 years - sort of. The house in which my wife and I raised our family sits here, but I have made my rather odd career as a different sort of photojournalist by continually wandering off to other places to photograph people and gather information, which I have then put together in various publications that have served the Alaska Native Eskimo, Indian and Aleut communities.

Although I did not have a great of free time to devote to this rather strange community, named after a Tanaina Athabascan Indian chief who knew Wasilla in the way that I so impossibly long to, I have still documented it regularly over the past quarter-century plus. In the early days, my Wasilla photographs focused mostly upon my children and the events they participated in - baseball, football, figure skating, hockey, frog catching, fire cracker detonation, Fourth of July parade - that sort of thing. 

In 2002, I purchased my first digital camera and then, whenever I was home, I began to photograph Wasilla upon a daily basis, but not in a conventional way. These were grab shots - whatever caught my eye as I took my many long walks or drove through the town, shooting through the car window at people and scenes that appeared and disappeared before I could even focus and compose in the traditional photographic way.

Thus, the Wasilla portion of this blog will be devoted both to the images that I take as I wander about and those that I have taken in the past. Despite the odd, random, nature of the images, I believe they communicate something powerful about this town that I have never seen expressed anywhere else. 

Wasilla is a sprawling community that has been slapped down hodge-podge upon what was so recently wilderness of the most exquisite beauty. In its design, it is deliberately anti-zoned, anti-planned. In the building of Wasilla, the desire to make a buck has trumped aesthetics and all other considerations. This town, built in the midst of exquisite beauty, has largely become an unsightly, unattractive, mess of urban sprawl. Largely because of this, it often seems to me that Wasilla is a community with no sense of community, a town devoid of town soul.

Yet - Wasilla is my home and if I am lucky it will be until I grow old and die. Despite its horrific failings, it is still made of the stuff of any small city: people; moms and dads, grammas and grampas, teens, children, churches, bars, professionals, laborers, soldiers, missionaries, artists, athletes, geniuses, do-gooders, hoodlums, the wealthy, the homeless, the rational and logical, the slightly insane and the wholly insane - and, yes, as is now obvious to the whole world, politicians, too.

So perhaps, if one were to search hard enough, it might just be possible to find a sense of community here, and a town soul. So, using my skills as a photojournalist and a writer, I hope to do just that. If this place has a sense of community, I will find it. If there is a town soul to Wasilla, I will document it. I won't compete with the newspapers. Hell no! But as time and income allow, it will be fun to wander into the places where the folks described above gather, and then put what I find on this blog.

 

by 300...

Anywhere within a 300 mile radius of Wasilla. This encompasses perhaps the most wild, dramatic, gorgeous, beautiful section of land and sea to be found in any comparable space anywhere on Earth. I can never explore it all, but I will do the best that I can, and will here share what I find and experience with you.  

and then some...

Anywhere else in the world that I happen to get to, such as Point Lay, Alaska; Missoula, Montana; Serenki, Chukotka, Russia; or Bangalore, India. Perhaps even Lagos, Nigeria. I have both a desire and scheme to get me there. It is a long shot. We shall see if I succeed.

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Saturday
Dec042010

Warren Matumeak, Iñupiaq Elder of the Year, completes his life journey

Late yesterday afternoon, I learned that Warren Matumeak of Barrow had just passed away. I last saw Warren on November 19, at the close of the Uqapiaqta Elders and Youth Conference where he was honored by the Iñupiat History and Culture Commission with the Iñupiaq Elder of the Year Award.

Two younger people were also honored then - Jana Harcharek and Josiah Patkotak, who received the Iñupiaq adult and youth awards respectively. In time, I will introduce both of them here, but today I want the images in this blog to focus solely upon Warren. In the image above, his name has just been called and he is about to go to the front to receive his recognition.

Tomorrow, I leave for Barrow where I will attend his funeral. I have been forced to miss many important funerals lately, from Mabel Aiken in Barrow to Soundarya in Bangalore, but I intend to be there for Warren's. After I arrive in Barrow and get a chance to talk with a few of those who loved him and worked closely with him, I will try to write a little more and to communicate a bit about who he was and how people saw him.

In my opinion, he was one of the great men of the Arctic. He will take a treasure to the grave with him - the knowledge and experience that he possessed.

For now, I am going to say little and just let these pictures of what I believe to have been his final appearance before the public speak for themselves.

Over the years, I have photographed Warren in many situations - directing the North Slope Borough Wildlife Management Department; drumming, singing and dancing from Barrow to Washington, DC - leading the choir and preaching in church and at many singspirations. I have photographed him feeding Russian Yup'ik and Chukchi dancers in his home and being fed by them in their Chukotka homes.

But my very favorite photograph that I ever took of him is a black and white that shows him sitting in front of a piano, looking a little weak and pale but grateful, with his arm around a young boy who holds a frozen fish and grins broadly.

That young boy is his grandson, Tommy Akpik, who you can see as an adult standing here behind him in the gray sweatshirt. Tommy was nine, and had gone through a grueling ordeal out on the tundra far from the nearest help and had saved his grandfather's life after Warren suffered a heart attack.

If I can find that picture before I leave for Barrow, after I get to Barrow I will put it in this blog and I will tell the story behind it.

Warren moves to the podium.

Warren receives his award, along with a hug from Patuk Glenn.

The gentleman smiling from the left, by the way, is Wesley Aiken, Larry Aiken's father. Warren and Wesley grew up together and served in the Army together.

Warren receives the mic from IHLC's Ethel Williams.

Warren expresses his thanks for this award.

Warren Matumeak.

Warren acknowledges the applause given to him by members of the board of IHLC.

He then returns to the audience, where his family and friends await him.

 

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Reader Comments (7)

I am sure his family will be delighted to see these lovely photographs, taken just a couple of weeks ago, showing Mr Matumeak's pleasure in his award. I'm glad you were there.

December 4, 2010 | Unregistered Commenterbetsy s

It is wonderful to see that they honored Mr. Matumeak prior to him passing. Far too many awards and acknowledgments are after they have passed.

December 4, 2010 | Unregistered Commenterde

Beautiful photos, as always, Bill. Chie and I will miss the funeral, I fear. We were blessed with the opportunity to say goodbye to Uncle Warren over the weekend. We're sad for the family, but Warren left so much behind he will never be forgotten. Chie and I learned so much from him.

December 4, 2010 | Unregistered CommenterAaron Fox

I have been reading your blog for a while now. I always enjoy what you write and the pictures that accompany your words. I have to say I have been moved to tears by your reflections on the death of your dear friend, Sandy. And your wife, Margie, is adorable.

December 4, 2010 | Unregistered CommenterIna Offret

What a lovely post. First time posting here. I love your blog. It is a place I visit everyday and I appreciate your take on life and your musings on everything. Please don't let your heart become too heavy with all the sadness you have experienced recently. We all experience loss and our hearts become fonder because of it. Peace and thank you.

December 4, 2010 | Unregistered Commenterstella

I'll just echo Aaron Fox. Thank you for sharing the photos and memoir, Bill. And quyanaqpak, Uncle Warren, for being who you were - a phenomenal drummer, singer, dancer, storyteller, teacher, man of faith, and proud Inupiaq. We can never thank you enough for what you've done for us since Aaron and I first knocked on your door in a snowy evening in late November 2007. You and your family so warmly and graciously embraced us and welcomed us into the Inupiaq life. Your faith in us was indeed like "muktuk" that kept fueling and re-energizing us. We love you, and we miss you.

December 5, 2010 | Unregistered CommenterChie

Wonderful stories/photos of Aapa Warren's Funeral and everything else!! Thanks much Bill!! Merry Christmas!!

December 17, 2010 | Unregistered CommenterRobert Ovluaq Akpik, Jr.

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